Simple and Complicated
FROM THE RECTOR
Over the last ten days, I have had several conversations about the violence in Israel and Gaza. All of them have taken place within the comfort, security, and privilege of being six thousand miles away from the conflict and with the relief that comes from not personally knowing anyone who is at risk. But that illusion of distance collapses pretty quickly when I hear from people who have relatives in Israel, and it disappears entirely when I think about my friends in the Jewish and Arab communities who now face hatred and threats of violence here at home.
The conflict in Israel and Palestine has many complicated aspects, which even the greatest negotiators in the world have not been able to unlock, but one truth is unequivocally simple: violence against civilians, especially those who are not capable of defending themselves, is abhorrent and evil. Although ultimately we cannot be dismissive of the root causes of the conflict, we must say without equivocation that attacking non-combatants, kidnapping civilians, and threatening hostages are examples of terrorist violence that can never be justified. What surprises me most is how hard it is for me to say something so clear and obvious.
I have always had an interest in international affairs. When I was a freshman in high school, I joined a Model United Nations team and suddenly found myself fascinated with far-off issues like the conflict between Russia and Chechnya. Nevertheless, there is no amount of reading, studying, and watching the news that can help me appreciate what is really going on between Israel and Hamas and what has led us to this point. In part that is because, by the time the news gets to me, it has been filtered through secondary and tertiary sources, spun around by those with vested though adjacent economic and political interests, and stretched and twisted into soundbites that may or may not still have any true bearing on what has actually happened.
Additionally, whatever information I receive is then filtered and interpreted through my own biases, which over the years have been shaped considerably. Without knowing it or asking for it, I have inherited a religious tradition—Protestant Christianity—that has been influenced by many anti-Semitic theologians, some of whom remain giants in their field. I grew up in a conservative community with a strong evangelical culture, which paradoxically espoused both Zionist and anti-Jewish positions. Like most of us, I watched the Twin Towers fall on 9/11 and then experienced the War on Terror, which affected the way I think about Muslims.
Over the years, The Episcopal Church has asserted itself into the conflict in several ways. In 1979, the General Convention affirmed its support of a free and secure Israel and the establishment of an independent Palestinian state. In 2003, it condemned the construction of a security wall by Israel as an impediment to long-term peace and called upon Israel to stop destroying Palestinian homes. In 2012, it stated that Israel should disclose whether any financial aid from the United States was being used to expand Jewish settlements in the West Bank, Gaza, and East Jerusalem. I remember how, in 2015, the debate on the floor of General Convention over whether the Church Pension Group should be instructed to divest from all companies that promote such settlements was itself anti-Semitic. (You can read more here.)
If you do not know what or how to feel, you are not alone. If you are enraged by attacks on children and the elderly and despondent over the destruction of schools and hospitals, you are not alone. If you wonder how the policies of the Israeli government and Palestinian leaders are making things worse and not better, you are not alone. If you are anxious about what this violence means for innocent lives and worried that it may impact people you know and love, you are not alone. If you are not sure what to say about the conflict or even how to pray for peace, you are not alone. I feel those things, too, and I know many others do as well.
There is nothing simple about the relationship between Israel and Palestine, but we do not need to let the complexity the situation obscure the truth that violence is wrong and that violence against innocent individuals is especially heinous. We need not understand the nuances of the situation to say that hatred, including anti-Semitism, is always wrong. We need not ask someone their beliefs about Israeli settlements or Palestinian aspirations before offering condolences to the bereaved and support to the vulnerable. We do not need to know what God thinks about a free and independent Jewish or Palestinian state to know that God does not approve of terrorist violence or indiscriminate attacks.
It feels a little empty and incomplete, but, when I pray about the situation, all I know to do is to ask God to bring peace to Israel and Gaza. I pray for the safety of the hostages. I pray for protection for innocent lives. I pray that somehow the violence will be limited and the loss of life will be minimal. I pray that those who are afraid will know God’s strength and that those who have lost loved ones will know God’s consolation. But I do not know which side to pray for or what kind of resolution I should ask God to bring about. I still do not know how to make sense of what has happened and what will happen except to cry with those who mourn, stand beside those who feel insecure, and trust that somehow God’s reign is still breaking through in this world. In this difficult time, I invite you to do the same.
Yours Faithfully,
Evan D. Garner